Zhou Zhiyang did not disappoint him; his swordplay was steady yet agile. The initial thrust was weighty and profound, but at the moment of impact, it suddenly fractured into a dazzling, indistinguishable flurry of sword shadows.

Li Muzhan merely evaded, absorbing every move with his eyes, his mind operating on three concurrent levels: comparing the incoming technique to his own learned sword arts, and then to the Canghai Nine Swords he was in the process of adapting. The Canghai Nine Swords derived from the Canghai Nine Palms, existing only in a nascent form.

He felt it was worlds away from completion; a month was utterly insufficient, and he had no certainty even with a year or two. The root lay in the Canghai Nine Palms' vast, comprehensive mastery—one technique capable of breaking a myriad of others, condensing the very essence of martial philosophy.

To forge the Canghai Nine Swords from it required a complete internalization of that essence. Though his internal energy was profound and his comprehension superhuman, achieving such internalization in a short span was beyond mortal capacity.

Facing the Canghai Nine Palms was like staring into a bottomless abyss; no matter how deep he dug, he couldn't reach the floor. After much deliberation, he concluded the swiftest method was sparring with a master.

Relying solely on personal enlightenment and deep meditation was less effective than direct engagement to ignite true understanding. In the blink of an eye, over fifty moves had passed.

Li Muzhan had been purely on the defensive, handling it with ease. Zhou Zhiyang’s swordplay, though fierce, held an underlying fluidity, exquisitely precise, drawing silent admiration from the disciples watching nearby.

Among the ten core disciples, Mei Ruolan was the most astonished. She had believed that her recent secluded training had significantly advanced her martial arts, finally closing the gap with Li Muzhan.

But seeing the current display upon emerging from seclusion, she could only sigh. He had never seriously practiced palm techniques back at the Mei Manor.

Since arriving at the Canghai Sword Sect, in just one or two months, his palm skills had become incredibly refined, his progress startling. She inwardly sighed, concluding that Zhanran truly was a prodigy, someone who could not be measured by ordinary standards.

Mistress Zhuzhao watched with a faint smile, glancing towards Wen Yinyue, whose bright eyes were focused with an unreadable expression. Zhou Zhiyang's swordsmanship was superb, his stances grounded, each sword stroke seemingly carrying the weight of ten thousand jun, both robust and agile.

As time wore on, his movements gradually slowed. Swordsmanship encompasses both speed and slowness; most seek victory through quickness, but at a certain level, using slowness to counter speed yields even greater power.

Li Muzhan’s palms moved slowly, sweeping left and right with an air of nonchalance, as if playing, while his feet ceaselessly shifted to evade, daring not to meet Zhou Zhiyang’s force head-on. Zhou Zhiyang's sword strikes were also not fast, and they grew progressively slower.

The crowd knew that even though he slowed, his power increased, as he was accumulating strength for an inevitable thunderous strike when the opportunity arose. The ten core disciples of the Canghai Sword Sect worried silently, while the contingent from Xiankong Island rejoiced inwardly.

Though they sensed Zhou Zhiyang was at a disadvantage, they remained completely confident that Senior Brother Zhou would ultimately prevail. Zhou Wanli stroked his graying beard, his brow deeply furrowed; he perceived that something was amiss.

He vaguely felt his son was trapped in a predicament, struggling desperately like a caged beast. Observing closely, he noted his son’s breathing growing ragged, veins faintly bulging on his arms as he strained to maintain his sword forms, yet the strikes grew slower—there had to be a trick.

While others could not discern the subtlety, Zhou Zhiyang was inwardly crying out in distress. It felt as though he were mired in a swamp, sinking deeper with every passing moment.

The very air seemed to congeal into mud, making movement arduous; he needed several times the effort just to sustain his posture. Eventually, it was as if invisible threads bound him, pulling at every limb, making his movements increasingly difficult.

Even exerting his utmost strength, his sword could not achieve speed. He glanced at his opponent, who moved with unhurried composure, his evasions relaxed, his palm movements like a casual game.

Zhou Zhiyang’s heart sank. He felt like a silkworm being bound and wrapped in thread; another dozen moves, and he feared he would be utterly immobilized.

With a sudden surge of resolve, his eyes blazed with sharp light. With a fierce shout of "Hee!", the sword light abruptly intensified.

The blade suddenly accelerated, flashing toward Li Muzhan’s chest. Li Muzhan swept his left palm in a gentle arc, hooking slightly, and stepped forward.

The lightning-fast sword strike suddenly veered right, slicing through the empty space to Li Muzhan’s left. Li Muzhan’s shoulder connected squarely with Zhou Zhiyang’s chest, sending him flying backward.

Li Muzhan stepped back, bowed with hands clasped: "Brother Zhou, I yield." Zhou Zhiyang landed, stumbling several steps backward, nearly colliding with Zhou Wanli. His jade-like face flushed crimson, as if rouged.

He took several deep breaths to settle his surging blood, then gave a wry smile and clasped his hands: "A fine palm technique, formidable internal energy. I willingly admit defeat!" "Senior Brother Zhou?" The disciples from Xiankong Island expressed their disbelief.

Zhou Zhiyang waved them off, sighing: "No need to argue; I was indeed beaten. He turned to Zhou Wanli: "Father, your son is incompetent." Zhou Wanli’s face darkened, his eyes flashing with cold electricity.

He waved a hand and snorted: "Enough. If you lack the skill, there is nothing to say.

Go back and train diligently!" "Yes." Zhou Wanli returned to stand behind Zhou Wanli with a composed expression. Mistress Zhuzhao glanced smilingly at Li Muzhan, then said cheerfully to Zhou Wanli: "Your sect’s Spiritual Dragon Sword has found a worthy successor; a joy to behold!" Zhou Wanli’s face remained grim, and he replied coldly: "Mistress speaks too kindly; he is far from it!" Mistress Zhuzhao was unconcerned by his mood, smiling: "His mastery is lacking, yes, but with a few more years of tempering, he will surely shine brilliantly!" Zhou Wanli snorted coldly, his face set, and remained silent.

Mistress Zhuzhao continued with a smile: "Truly, a tiger fathers no weak cub. Young Master Zhou, why not reside at Canghai Mountain for a spell and spar with the others?

How about it?" Zhou Zhiyang was momentarily stunned, finding the offer highly unexpected, and glanced towards Zhou Wanli. Zhou Wanli pondered for a moment, then looked up at Mistress Zhuzhao, stating in a deep voice: "Mistress's kind offer—I appreciate the sentiment, but we dare not cause trouble!" Mistress Zhuzhao shook her head, displaying a look of disappointment, and her smile faded: "Since that is the case, this Seat will not press the matter.

A pity..." She then pointed to the jade vial on the table: "Zhanran, retrieve this!" Li Muzhan acknowledged solemnly with clasped hands: "Yes." Saying this, he stepped forward, picked up the exquisite, delicate jade vial, and tucked it into his robes without reservation. Zhou Wanli, his face cold, retrieved the string of luminous pearls from his own robes.

Their soft glow instantly drew the attention of everyone present. He flung the string with a sharp motion, stating in a heavy voice: "Catch!" "Hiss!" The sound of air being pierced like an arrow followed as the pearls streaked silver light towards Li Muzhan.

Mistress Zhumei and Li Zhuyue frowned, showing clear disdain. This act was clearly bullying the younger party; Zhou Wanli’s magnanimity was truly narrow!

Li Muzhan smiled faintly, flicked his sleeve, and unleashed the Ruthless Sleeve. The luminous pearls behaved like returning swallows seeking their nests, instantly disappearing into his wide sleeve, silenced.

He clasped his hands in a formal bow, smiling faintly: "Thank you, Senior Zhou." Seeing that his expression remained unchanged and his demeanor composed, Zhou Wanli frowned, his face growing colder. He stated in a deep voice: "It is what you earned; why thank me!

... A fine 'Double Sword Monk' Zhanran, your reputation is well deserved!" "I dare not claim it," Li Muzhan replied with a smile.

Zhou Wanli snorted coldly, stood up, clasped his hands, and announced: "Mistress, we have overstayed our welcome. I have no face to linger here any longer, so we shall take our leave!" Mistress Zhuzhao chuckled lightly: "Stay a few more days.

The scenery at Canghai Mountain is lovely, and Zhanran also painted a panoramic view of the sea—well worth seeing." Zhou Wanli shook his head, stating firmly: "I appreciate the kind invitation, but my party has other matters. We will not impose.

Farewell!" Saying this, without waiting for Mistress Zhuzhao to say more, he turned and walked away. He cursed inwardly: Mistress Zhuzhao is sharp-tongued and deliberately mentioned Zhanran to spite him.

She is truly hateful and infuriating! He swallowed his accumulated anger and hurried out, fearing that if he stayed any longer, he might lose control and cause a massive incident.

Mistress Zhuzhao rose and followed behind them, saying cheerfully: "Senior Zhou, why the rush to descend the mountain? ...

You arrive hurriedly and depart just as quickly; others might think Canghai Mountain was inhospitable." Mistress Zhumei secretly tugged at her robe collar, signaling her to stop, worried that Zhou Wanli’s ill temper might truly ignite. Mistress Zhuzhao smiled charmingly, shook her head, and signaled that it was fine.

She stopped at the threshold after following them out of the Wuji Hall. Zhou Wanli and his group were already hastening down the steps, starting their descent.

Mistress Zhuzhao stood at the doorway and called out: "Farewell, Senior Zhou! Please forgive this Seat for not escorting you further!

... Zhanran!

See Senior Zhou and his party off for me!" "Yes." Li Muzhan responded respectfully. His figure flickered, vanishing from his spot and reappearing beside Zhou Wanli, saying in a gentle voice: "Senior Zhou, please take care!" Zhou Wanli narrowed his eyes, glared at him coldly, snorted, and continued walking down, offering no word.

He was secretly alarmed; he hadn't detected Zhanran’s approach at all. Had it been an ambush, he would not have survived that moment.

Li Muzhan struck up a conversation with Zhou Zhiyang. Though Zhou Wanli remained cold-faced, he dared not frighten Zhou Zhiyang, who, unlike others, dared to engage Li Muzhan.

He held immense admiration for Li Muzhan, believing that someone so young possessing such skill would undoubtedly become a figure of great consequence in the future. Befriending him could only be beneficial.

Zhou Zhiyang sighed, shaking his head with regret: "Master Zhanran, it is truly a pity that you joined the Canghai Sword Sect. It is like burying a brilliant pearl in darkness!" Li Muzhan smiled faintly.

Zhou Zhiyang continued: "The martial arts of the Canghai Sword Sect are best suited for women. Men cannot practice them effectively; what men can practice there does not constitute peak, ultimate mastery." Li Muzhan smiled: "One cannot generalize so absolutely." Zhou Zhiyang shook his head regretfully: "Given Master Zhanran’s aptitude, if you had joined the ranks of Xiankong Island, your achievements would be far greater than this.

What a shame, truly a shame!" Li Muzhan looked deeply at him and smiled: "Brother Zhou’s Spiritual Dragon Sword style is indeed masterful. We must spar again if we have the chance." Zhou Zhiyang’s heart jolted; he felt as though his defenses were utterly exposed, seen through in a single glance.

Knowing further persuasion was useless—Zhanran would not change his allegiance—he felt genuine regret for Li Muzhan. Such talent was wasted in the Canghai Sword Sect!

If he were at Xiankong Island, he could certainly aim to rival the Eldest Senior Brother and become a pillar of their sect. The two chatted and laughed amicably, and Li Muzhan escorted him all the way to the mountaintop, waving farewell.

Li Muzhan also felt a sense of pity. While speaking, he employed his Mind-Reading technique; Zhou Zhiyang possessed an upright and forthright character, making him a worthy acquaintance—a pity he belonged to Xiankong Island.

In the Jianghu, one’s path is not entirely one’s own. If the two factions were ever to fall into enmity and war, even if the opponent was not inherently wicked or unworthy of friendship, he would still be unable to show mercy.

As he turned back up the mountain path, he touched the luminous pearls in his sleeve. A cool, crisp energy seeped from his fingers, traveled up his arm, and settled into his mind, lingering there.

He started in surprise, feeling a strange awe. He had known they were extraordinary just by observing their radiance, but he hadn't expected them to be true spirit pearls!